


Balance

by stardustsroses



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alarkling - Freeform, Darklina - Freeform, F/M, Promise, With Lots Of Angst, a little too fluffy but whatcha gonna do, also a side of mal, but you don't see him much, conflicted alina is back, mostly emotional, the one where i cry loads, wouldn't want to torture you with that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 18:05:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17771657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustsroses/pseuds/stardustsroses
Summary: A re-write for the ending of Ruin and Rising, in which Alina ends up perishing with the Darkling, and they both use their powers to come back to life, to a world where darkness and light both live.spoilers for the grisha trilogy and the demon in the woods short story.*does not contain king of scars spoilers*





	Balance

In here, she had no name.

            In here, reality was a gentle breeze and endless trees of white, hazy through her vision. It was like a veil had been placed over her eyes.

            In here, the snow did not feel cold. The clouds were gathering in soft pinks and gentle oranges, as if a non-existent sun was beginning to set. A strange, blurry place. A haven. A sigh of relief.

            Alina turned.

            He was staring at her.

            “Alina.”

            There was no blood soaking his shirt. None at all. No despair marrying his features. None at all.

            Aleksander stood in the snow, a dark statue, eyes pale against the white canvas that surrounded him. Her heart beat in recognition. Or it would’ve.

            If she had been alive to feel it beat for him.

***

            _“Once more. Speak my name once more.”_

_“Aleksander.”_

_“Don’t let me be alone.”_

The world had tilted. Slowed. Screams could be heard over ahead, but Alina had stopped hearing, feeling, seeing. There was only his hand in hers, the last sigh he would ever breathe, and the faraway sound of the world slipping away.

            Darkness.

            Endless, lonely, yet peaceful. And even though her brain had somewhat managed to realize that she’d been dying with the man she’d killed, her hands still tinged with his blood, there had been no confusion as to why.

            Because in that same second when the darkness enveloped her like his arms wrapping around her body, swaying her, a dark lullaby urging her to sleep, she’d understood.

            She’d understood it all too well.

***

            She had a body, though she could not feel it.

            A heaviness lifted from her shoulders, and there was only lightness. A calming sensation spread over her, urging her not to feel frightened, not to be in a panic.

            This reality was not her reality.

            And she understood that.

            For her lack of physicality, she could still remember – her name, his name, her world and his world both. A world that had been the same and yet not.

            She could still remember digging a knife up his chest, feeling the blood gushing out of him and spilling over her. She could still feel the tears running down her cheeks, the uncontrollable sobs that left her, the gasps that tore from her as his body had fallen to the ground.

            She remembered.

            _“No grave for them to desecrate.”_

            He reached for her, and Alina stepped back.

            Strange, so strange, not being able to feel the ground beneath her feet, and yet looking down and clearly seeing her toes buried in the snow.

            “You were dead,” she managed. “I killed you.”

            “Alina.”

            “Get away from me.”

            Alina looked around herself, seeing only white. Frozen branches and too-still leaves. A world without motion. And yet –

            It was her Ravka. These were the woods where her father first taught her how to walk. She had buried her face in the snow, and cried at feeling the cold biting viciously at her skin. She had cried out for her father, and he’d picked her up in his arms, murmuring soothing words, his lips on the crown of her head.

            Flashes and flashes before her eyes. Moving pictures behind her lids, one after the other, a life lived, a life she had not thought of in a long time.

            “What is this,” she murmured to no one.

            Aleksander did not answer, did not move closer.

            Where was everyone? Why were they alone?

            What exactly _was_ this place?

            She’d imagined death as something close to this and yet – dark. So dark. She’d never thought it possible to still be able to call herself Alina and to watch Aleksander’s eyes trace the shape of her face like he was concerned and relieved at the same time. She’d never thought it possible to be able to move and wonder and watch him right back.

            But death was quiet and peaceful and confusing and she still remembered. Why did she still remember?

            “Alina,” he said again. “Do you know what happened?”

            She did. She understood it. And yet-

            Not at all.

            “You were dead,” she repeated, and her emotions were real. Torn from her chest and out in the open. She was breathing, and yet she did not feel it. “You were dead. And I…”

            “You ended your life by ending mine,” was the whisper that was torn from his mouth, a realization in his eyes.

            “How is that possible?” She asked, though she knew. She had to know.

            Aleksander was very still, beautiful, even in death. He was clearest image in front of her, while the rest of the world didn’t seem as real.

            “We are one,” he said, “and the same.”

            “No,” she murmured.

            “Alina,” he said. And kneeled.

            She felt too much. Too much to bear.

            Alina watched his face, stark and vivid with emotion. Sorrow in every single feature, every corner. He clutched at his chest as if he could still feel the knife digging his heart.

            Her death might’ve felt peaceful, but Alina realized that, in that moment, his was anything but.

            Aleksander wore a different face.

            It was still him – the dark hair and the pale grey eyes that had tortured her endlessly. It was still the same mouth, perfectly shaped, the straight nose and the sharp jawline _. It was him. It was him. It was him._

            And yet-

            Alina had the feeling that some part of him had been torn away, as some part of her had as well. Ripped away when her blade pushed off his chest.          

            He breathed loudly, heaving, shaking.

            She could only image what kinds of torture his mind was conjuring. His mind or – or this non-place.

            Punished. He was being punished.

            Without thinking, Alina moved to stand by him. Reaching out, she tried to touch his shoulder, but Aleksander moved away from her, flinching. Like she burned him.

            She blinked, watching him curiously. Intently.

            And Aleksander said, “What is my name.”

            “What?” She whispered.

            “What is my name,” he said. “I have so many.”

            Alina parted her lips, an answer on the tip of her tongue. But Aleksander was alone, and was speaking to himself, speaking of names that she did not recognize.

            There was no darkness in here, no light. The clouds remained tinted with pinks and oranges and the world was still as the leaves trapped in those frozen branches, never to fall, never to move, never to perish. It would always remain this way here, Alina realized – always between the light and the dark. The sun never fully setting, and never fully rising.

            And yet Aleksander seemed plagued with the darkness. His hands cradled his head, as it fell between his knees.

            He repeated the words, “What is my name. What is my name.”

            Alina breathed in shakily, stuck in place, not knowing what to do. Not knowing who he was anymore.

            “ _I’m going to die here_ ,” he said. “ _They’re going to wear my bones_.”

            “No,” she shook her head, frowning.

            “ _No safe place, no haven_.”

            “Aleksander.”

            “ _I will make one. I will make one. I will make one_.”

            “Aleksander.”

            Alina kneeled in front of him, suddenly too startled to try and touch him again, not knowing if that would make him disappear. The thought of being alone in this not-placed scared her more than he did.

            “Aleksander,” she murmured again.

            Finally, at last, he looked up. Eyes bloodshot, tears that looked too real, hollows on his cheeks. Yet there was no darkness to shield him now. There was no evil to push at him. He was alone, stripped away from the person he had to become.

            “Aleksander,” Alina said, her breath coming out in short puffs. “Your name is Aleksander.”

            He shook his head at her, eyes wide.

            She said it again. “Your name is Aleksander.”

            He blinked, so slow. He was a boy, not born from darkness, but created from it. And now that it had left him-

            Alina did not know who she was without the light. But it did not startle her to be left without that warmth. She realized in those brief seconds – if there was such a thing as time in this non-place where they stood, kneeled in front of each other –, that the reason why Aleksander looked as if he’d been teared from the inside out was because he’d given in to it. To that darkness. Alina had never given in to the power that threatened to consume her.

            Aleksander had. Somehow, the boy he had once been, and the boy that was staring at her now, frightened and seemingly alone, had to give in to that darkness to survive.

            She saw him in a new light then.

            “I don’t feel it anymore,” he said.

            “I know,” said Alina.

            Aleksander hung his head, staring at the snow underneath them. He held out a hand in front of him, and turned his gaze to his palm.

            “Why did I die with you?” She asked him once more, needing another answer.

            Without looking up, Aleksander said, “There is no light without darkness. No darkness without light.”

            Alina’s heart, that had once beat, and now felt like a frozen stone in her chest, seemed to come alive at those words.

            She said, “I didn’t want to kill you.”

            “I know.”

            “I needed to end it, Aleksander.”

            He closed his eyes. “I know.”

            Alina didn’t know what she had expected when she first turned and saw him. Anger? A fire in his eyes, urging him to take his revenge on her, even in this non-place, where they could do no more harm to each other? She certainly expected anything but this – a broken down soul, torn apart, plagued by his own errors and wrongdoings.

            This man had almost shredded their world to pieces.

            He’d hurt so many people.

            His mother, her friends, her people. He’d done so much harm.

            And every single one of those errors were clear in his eyes. He might as well have been a book which she could flip and read at any time she wanted.

            Alina understood.

            She thought she understood that hatred more than most, and jealousy, and the desire to make anything, anywhere, feel like home. But hatred was a fickle thing. Like fear. It was a candle, really. It could be blown away by the right person. Or, if you had the lungs for it, it could be whisked out by your own doing.

            Alina imagined what it would have been like if there had been such a person for Aleksander. Someone to put out that tiny flame – the flame of fear that eventually grew and became hatred. What would this man be?

            Would it even be wise to consider it, now that their lives had reached their ending?

            Slowly, he rose.

            Alina rose with him, watching his gaze trace the trees that multiplied in front of them. Infinity lay beyond. She still did not want to consider the vastness of this place, the loneliness she would feel if he disappeared.

            “This isn’t death,” he said suddenly, blinking.

            Alina stared at him.

            Aleksander said, “Touch me.”

            Alina pulled back, widening her eyes. “What?”

            “Touch me,” he held out a hand, suddenly desperately, suddenly urgent.

            Alina stared at the hand he held out, huffing out a breath.

            Fear petrified her, but she held her place. She could not place that fear, and give it a reason. She feared the unknown the most, and what Aleksander was trying to do-

            She held out her hand.

            Slowly, gently, her fingertips touched his. And she expected to feel nothing.

            But then it changed.

            The tips of her fingers became alive the moment they touched his. Like her veins had been as frozen as those branches that surrounded them, but the ice had cracked and fallen off when he touched her. Warmth ran through her body, up her arm, her shoulder, neck, down, down, down to her toes. And then she felt her body, felt the heavy tilt of her head as she stared at him.

            Alive.

            She pulled her hand back abruptly, and then she felt like she might be floating. The weight gone. That presence of herself gone.

            Aleksander let out a hopeful breath.

            “Not dead,” he said.

            “How can it be?” She asked, startled to not feel herself again.

            He shook his head, staring at her – or straight through her. Alina could not tell what he was thinking. She only wanted to feel secure again. Wanted that warmth back in her body. Wanted the steady rhythm of his heartbeat to soothe her.

            But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t-

            “We’re suspended,” he said. “It was not our time, Alina.”

            “Suspended _where_?”

            He shook his head, looking around as if in wonder, in amazement. No fear left. He stared back at her, lips parted, eyes wide and bright. Alina was not sure she knew him anymore. Maybe she didn’t. “There is no way we can know,” he said. “But we have to get out of here.”          

            It was her turn to shake her head. “But how? We haven’t got our powers. I can’t even…feel my own heart.”

            He moved towards her, a dark statue come to life. He took her hands in his.

            That feeling again, as if she were coming back to her own bones, the blood rushing through her body and to her face, to her heart. It gave a painful thump in her chest, and she gasped.

            Aleksander took a breath, watching her face.

            “How is this possible,” she whispered to herself, watching his hands in hers.

            He was smiling.

            She’d never seen that smile before.

            Alina tried so hard not to let it hit her, but that image would stay with her for a very, very long time. The picture of his smile, his real one, hopeful and crooked and blinding.

            “No light without darkness,” he repeated, only in a whisper. “No darkness without light.”

            “Are we truly bound together?” She asked him, afraid to let go of him. But his hands held on tightly to hers.

            “Do you feel it, Alina?” He asked, mesmerized.

            “What?”

            “Do you-“ He stopped himself, and then took one of his hands, and held it between them. The other one still holding on to her. “I feel something.”

            And true enough – a ringlet of darkness spread from his palm, quiet and comforting, different from the midnight darkness she was used to. This darkness could never hurt. This was the darkness that was peaceful and good. The darkness of sleep, of dreams left unsaid.

            Alina’s eyebrows came together as she watched that darkness flutter and fall back to his palm. She pushed her hand back from him.

            Gone. That feeling of warmth and life again.

            And his darkness too – disappearing as if it were only a mist, being blown away by an invisible breeze that did not move the snow, did not move the frozen leaves.

            Tentatively, she reached for him again, entwining their fingers, and she watched as that darkness sprang up again, as if happy to be awakened. Soft and tender.

            “Impossible,” she murmured, looking up at him.

            “One and the same,” he said again.

            But she felt nothing inside of herself. Not a glimmer of the power that used to live within her, threatening to choke her life away. Gone was the feeling of being on top of the world. And maybe that had been the point. Maybe that was for the best.

            “I can’t…” she held out a hand, closing it in a fist, and then opening it. Again and again she did it. Nothing happened. “There’s nothing there.”

            Aleksander’s face did not grow somber, as she expected. There was no flicker of fear in his eyes, like she’d imagined before uttering the words.

            He said, “Don’t let go, Alina.”

            Alina felt the warmth again, felt it wrap its arms around her body and embracing her. She welcomed it.

            “No,” she said to him, to that darkness. “I won’t.”

***

            “Try again,” he said.

            Time was not real in a place like this. The sun did not set, did not rise. The trees remained frozen. The snow she remembered from her childhood unmoving, unfaltering. They left no footprints.

            Not as they sat against a tree that did not feel like a tree, their hands clasped together, holding on tightly.

            “I can’t,” she shook her head, feeling defeated. “I can’t.”

            If there was ever a time when she resented her power, at that moment, Alina was surely regretting it. She had to know what she could do in a place like this. If there was a way out-

            She looked at him then, suddenly remembering how they’d ended up here in the first place. It was so easy to forget with him looking and acting like-

            Like someone she thought she could love.

            And worst of all – pity.

            Alina remembered Mal, remembered Genya, remembered all the things that should have crossed her mind before those feelings knocked on her door. A cold shiver passed down her spine, though she kept her eyes locked on his.

            “It’s gone,” she finally said.

            And still, when she expected anger, Aleksander only said, “We will figure it out.”

            And that was that.

***

            Silence reigned.

            Alina still could not tell the passage of time.

            Could not feel the need to sleep, to eat, to relieve herself. There was nothing here. Nothing but her emotions, and the man that stayed alongside her, holding her hand, so neither of them could feel lost.

            He was quiet, always quiet.

            Sometimes Alina caught a strange look passing over his features, like he was back to not remembering who he was, and then he would squeeze her hand and sigh, relieved, remembering, recalling, comforted at last. He would close his eyes and breathe slow.

            Part of her wanted to pull her hand away and let him forget. Let the torture take him, let his mind go mad in the place. Part of her wanted him to suffer for all the things he did and drown in that guilt that plagued him now. Part of her hated that she understood him. Despite the gruesome things he did, she understood him. She _saw_ him.

            And then a part of her kept holding on, not just for her sake – but for his. Part of her whispered in her ear _enough. enough. enough._

            Enough of the guilt. Enough of the hatred.

            _How can you forgive?_

            _How can you live with yourself?_

_How will you come back, if you ever come back, knowing that your heart is torn? When you know that you should have just dug that knife deeper?_

            They didn’t speak.

            Alina did not force the words out of her throat.

***

            In a battlefield filled with confused grisha, an otkazat’sya stares at the body of the woman he loves.

            He’d ran to her after the volcra had disappeared like mist on a windy day, saw her holding the Darkling’s hand, whispering to him in his final moments.

            He’d crouched down to her, pulling her bloody hands off him, touching her face.

            But she’d been ice cold.

            And when Mal had stared up at her face-

            Blank. Her eyes unmoving. Unblinking.

            “Alina,” he’d shaken her. Hard. No response. “ALINA.”

            He let her go for just one moment, one single second, to look around and call for help, but then her body had fallen slowly, limp, lifeless, and Mal had seen her eyes close, as if she was simply falling into a deep sleep.

The Darkling and the woman he loved lay side by side, their hands touching.

***

Alina closed her eyes too at some point.

It was odd feeling her lashes tickle her skin, feeling the way her lungs expanded with she took a breath. Feel herself moving her toes, her legs.

Aleksander kept holding on. And Alina did not let go.

After closing her eyes, hearing only silence, Alina began jumping through memories once more.

But they were not her memories.

She knew that, and it did not frighten her.

She did not question the fact that she was seeing a little boy with black hair and grey eyes, hat too big for his head, his fringe too long, his nose pink from the cold.

Alina wondered if her mind was open to him, as well.

Yet it did not feel like an intrusion. Those memories were his – but they might as well have been hers, because she felt the same things he’d felt. She felt the cold of the snow on her feet, the icy wind making her eyes water. She felt the tug of a hand on hers, urging her to hurry.

That boy had so many names.

He just wished to remember his own.

A common name, not special at all. And yet it was his name. And his mother was telling him to let it go. Saying another name he hated, telling him that that was now his, for the time being. Telling him that he would have another one, many more. Because that was the only way to be safe.

 Alina saw water, warm and pleasant. A girl with white hair. And the feeling of drowning, a pain on the side of her head.

She opened her eyes.

The hazy world returned. The touch of his hand was the only real thing. His voice pulled her back to herself.

“That was the first time,” he said, “that I used the cut.”

“You were protecting yourself,” Alina said back, looking not at him, but in front of her at the nothingness around them. “It was the only way.”

“Was it?” He asked, and Alina was not sure if he’d asked her, if he really wanted an answer.

“You didn’t know they were going to kill all those people for revenge.”

“But they did,” he said. “And it was because of me.”

“You would’ve burned,” she said. “They would’ve killed you and used your bones.”

Aleksander turned to look at her.

Alina did not know why she was defending that little boy. But he hadn’t known. He-

At last, after an immense silence, she murmured, “Why did you do it, Aleksander?” She realized she was crying, and that she truly _felt_ it. “Why did you do such horrible things?”

He didn’t respond at first, watching her cry. And then slowly, he murmured, “ _Fear is a powerful ally, but feed it too often, make it too strong, and it will turn on you_.”

Baghra.

Alina closed her eyes, more tears falling. “I will not pity you.”

“I don’t wish you to.”

“What do you wish for then?” She asked. “For me to love you?”

“I will always wish for it, Alina. Die for it, most likely. For real, next time.”

She shook her head, wanting to peel her hand off his, wanting to keep holding on as tight as she could. “Is that what prevailed? What you feel for me? It was real after all?”

Her tone was angry, but Aleksander did not blink an eye as he responded with, “It was all too real, Alina.”

“Strip the darkness away and you’re left with that?” She said. “Say we leave this place. Say we come back. What will that love do to you, Aleksander? If the darkness becomes what it was before, and does not remain as it is now, tell me what you will do with it. I need to hear it.”

“I will disappear.”

“You _lie_.”

His thumb soothed her knuckle. “I was blind. So blind.”

Alina watched, torn between anguish and-

And something else she did not want to consider.

She let him speak.

“I don’t have an excuse,” Aleksander muttered. “I can blame the darkness, but the darkness is – was – me. It was all me. I wanted to hurt them, like they hurt me. I wanted to hurt you, because you hurt me. I wanted you like I wanted the whole world, and sometimes those two things became one in my mind, Alina.”

Her heart clenched. She spoke no words.

“I have no apologies,” he said. “Because my apologies would go unheard and be stepped on, rightfully so. I needed to leave the darkness to realize it. To _see_ again.”

Alina stared at his hand. “It did not leave you, though.”

“It is not the same, either.”

She knew. Because she’d felt that darkness enveloping her. She understood that it lived inside him, as it always would, but with a new purpose. Not to cause harm, but to bring protection.

“Do you want it back?”

Aleksander did not take long to say, “No.”

“I don’t know how to believe you.”

His thumb caressed her knuckle again. Soft and tender. As the darkness. “I know.”

***

The bodies were laid in the infirmary of the Little Palace.

Mal stood at the front of Alina’s bed, his hand in hers. He prayed to the saints he did not believe in.

The others had wanted to burn them both.

“She’s alive,” Mal had shouted, pointing at her. “She _is_ alive.”

And – true enough, Alina had a pulse.

Nobody touched the Darkling. But the blood stopped, his face did not pale. Whatever was happening…

She was alive. Both of them were.

“He’s got her,” Mal said, clutching her hand to his chest. “He’s got her.”

Zoya had stayed to watch over the Darkling, and her eyes had occasionally turned to Alina and to Mal, though she did not speak.

After three days, Zoya said, “We have to do something.”

“I’m not killing her.”

“I’m not telling you to kill her,” Zoya drawled, and gave the Darkling a pointed look. “We’re all thinking it. She’ll wake up – eventually.”

“No,” Mal said, holding out a hand, preventing her from levitating the Darkling’s body. “They’re connected somehow. She’s in there, somewhere, with him. If he dies, we may lose her too.”

Nobody else knew what to do.

Even Zoya, unrelenting, undefeated, sharp-tongued Zoya, did not utter a single word of protest. Instead, she hung her head, and fell into a chair. She slept.

And Mal watched the woman he loved slipping away, day by day.

***

“I loved you. Do you believe that?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“And you loved me. Do you believe that?”

Alina let out a breath.

_To have loved and lost so much…_

            “Yes,” she finally said.

            His thumb stroked her hand again. Soft and tender. As his darkness now was.

***

            Something was broken inside her.

            It dragged on, that silence.

            And the light never seemed to even shift, or give her a small sign that it still remained there, hiding deep within her.

            “How do you plan to return?” She asked him at one point, stretching the hand he wasn’t holding, as if that would alert the light and let it shine. “Even if my power does come back, which it _won’t_ -“

            “We came here because I was gone,” he said, “and you were not. In a world where darkness and light are needed for life itself to exist, there cannot only be one.” Aleksander turned to her, his knee touching hers as he sat closer, as he explained, “It is the same here.”

            “You believe that if we bind our powers together that that will bring us back?”

            Aleksander said, “I’ve never been half-dead, Alina. But it’s worth the shot.”

            She frowned at his attempted humour, and shook her head at him.

            “You can kill me again when we return,” he said. “Try to dig the knife into my heart this time.”

            “It _was_ your heart,” she seethed.

            “Actually, it was not,” he said back. “Close, but it did not reach. I think you hit a lung, which can be mended. Not my heart.”

            “Couldn’t you have already died given the blood loss?” She raised a brow. “By now, your body cannot be alive.”

            “It can,” he said. “If yours is, too.”

            His theory was nonsense. But Alina had no other concrete explanation to give, so her mouth shut, and her eyes drifted away towards the frozen land, and they stayed there.

            “What do you see?” He suddenly murmured.

            “What?”

            “In front of you. What do you see?”

            She found the question odd, but she said, “Snow. Piles of it. We’re surrounded by trees, all covered in it. Frozen branches and leaves. There’s a gentle breeze, but nothing moves.”

            Aleksander gave a small smile.

            She asked, after she received no answer, “What do _you_ see?”

            “A clearing,” he said. “Tall grass. Summer hair. It’s not really dawn, not really twilight. Somewhere in between.”

            “Here too.”

            “There are flowers,” he said. “Flowers everywhere.”

            Alina remained silent, watching his face.

            Aleksander said, “What’s your favourite colour, Alina?”

            Alina went silent, contemplating him. She whispered the word, “Grey.” And then, “Yours?”

            Aleksander smiled that same smile again, and Alina realized she did not know this man at all. She’d only met the darkness. He said, “Brown.”

***

            She kept trying.

            Nothing brought it up. _Nothing_.

            There wasn’t much she could try in this non-place, not many things to use to spring up that ancient power.

            She attempted to recall all the times that power had answered to her before, how it had come to her when she needed it, when she was feeling particularly strong about something.

            But it was difficult to decipher between her emotions here. It all felt too much at the same time.

            So when he asked, “Anything?”

            Alina’s heart fell as she said, “Nothing.”

            Aleksander only squeezed her hand.

***

            “Alina,” he whispered, close to her ear. “Alina.”

            She did not move.

            Not a sound or a movement. She was a block of ice, though her heart was still beating.

            The otkazat’sya kept holding on. Kept saying her name, willing her to wake up, to jump into his arms.

            But the Summoner did nothing of the sort.

            She stayed still, so very still, trapped in a world that he could not reach.

***

            “You said you had a taste for me once,” he said to her suddenly. The silence had enveloped them for what it had felt to Alina like days, and days, and more days, stretching out before her.

            “Yes,” she murmured.

            “Does that remain true?”

            Alina closed her eyes, and refrained from admitting the painful truth.

***

            A week. And then two.

            She did not wake. They did not die.

            The otkazat’sya felt his heart losing hope.

***

            He was getting under her skin, and she was getting under his.

            Alina wondered what it made her – to love a man that had killed for his own gain, that had ruined lives for the sake of his own power. That had manipulated and betrayed her. That had hurt her friends.

            Alina wondered what admitting it to herself would do. She wondered if she should admit it to him.

            Sometimes they laid together side by side, each one of them watching a different sky. Sometimes he did not touch her hand, but had one arm wrapped around her body. And she let him.

            She had not forgiven him. She could never forgive his sins. But she still allowed him to hold her, to let his nose trace the underside of her jaw.

            He felt so real.

            “It is real,” he whispered.

            And so different.

            _It doesn’t matter that that darkness is gone. He will remain the same. He will still betray you. In the end, he will always choose himself._

She wondered a lot of things.

            What did it mean for them, and for their world, now that they knew that one could not live without the other?

            And was he being truthful when he told her he would disappear and leave things as they are now?

            “What will you do?” He asked her then, his breath against her cheek, his nose skimming her skin.

            “Rebuild,” she said, out of breath, afraid of her own heart. “Erase you.”

            She felt him open his eyes, his lips so very close to her skin.

            _We’re one and the same._

_Like calls to like._

Was a man still a monster when he stopped being one?

            Was she a monster for loving a monster?

            Aleksander did not move.

            And for all her words, for all her determination in pushing him away, in pushing the memories of the boy in the woods away, Alina still turned her head to him. Still touched her nose to his, her breath mingling with his.

            And she still closed her eyes.

            And allowed the monster to hold her.

***

            Memories again.

            Her mind open to hers. They kept coming, not suddenly, but as if she were watching the scenes in front of her as they were back then. Looking in from a dirty window.

            “Did you do that?” Aleksander asked suddenly.

            “Did I do what?”

            He stared at her for a moment, lips parted. “You…showed me something.”

            Alina shook her head. “Showed you…? I- not intentionally.”

            Aleksander paused, and then said, “Ah.”

            And Alina realized that he’d not opened his mind to her at all. That was not his doing.

            It was _hers_.

            His mind was hers.

            And hers was his.

            “What did you see?” She asked.

            Aleksander shook his head, closed his eyes again. Murmured, under his breath, “A colour. Only a colour.”

***

            She touched his cheek, made him look at her.

            “Look at me.”

            He did, eyes fluttering at her touch. Slight surprise and delight and confusion and curiosity mixing together at that very moment.

            That strange feeling again, as she stared into his eyes, so close to him. That same…tug.

            “What is this?” She whispered no nothing and no one, shaking her head at nothing and no one.

            “Balance,” he said, touching her hand. “It’s balance.”

            “No,” Alina said, letting her hand drag over his face, feelings of guilt and regret whisked away and out of her mind. “No, it’s something-“

            That rope tugging at her, _pushing_ at her again.

            “What are you doing?” She asked.

            “Nothing,” Aleksander said, watching her carefully. “Nothing at all.”

            Her hand left his face, though her other one kept holding on to him, just so she wouldn’t feel as if she might disappear.

            Gone.

            And then, softly, Alina placed her hand on his face, watched as the colour seemed to come back to his eyes, to the world. Her thumb traced the softness of his skin, and she mesmerized the feel of it all.

            And it wasn’t like before.

            It wasn’t the power she craved.

            The rush that ran between them whenever they touched. That was not there anymore. It had been killed the moment she’d dug that knife in him.

            But it was _something_.

            “Say my name,” she said.

            “Alina.”

            Her gaze dropped to his lips. “Again.”

            “Alina.”

            _Tug tug._

“Alina,” he murmured, barely a whisper, fanning over her chin. She did not imagine the longing in his eyes, the steady feel of his hand around her waist, his other entwined with hers – always holding on.

            “Alina,” he said again, against her collarbone.

            _Tug._

“Alina,” against her ear.

            _Tug._

“Alina.”

            He was everywhere.

            He was everything.

            Maybe to love a monster, you have to become one, too.

***

            Mal had left only to shower.

            It had been less than ten minutes.

            But when the otkazat’sya entered the infirmary, he almost fell backwards at the sight that awaited him.

            They were still half-alive, half-dead, their beds next to each other. And yet in the time he’d been gone, Alina’s hand had drifted down, and hung loosely out of the mattress.

            So did _his_.

            Their fingertips almost touching, reaching for each other. The Darkling – and the woman he loved.

***

 

 

            “Show me,” she asked him.

            A twist of his wrist was all that he needed. And that soft darkness flowed all around her, sparks and ribbons and curls kissing her cheeks and drifting down her arms. It was the sort of power that he would have, had Aleksander been taught how to control it, and not how to expand it.

            She sighed. “I thought I’d felt it.”

            “When I said your name?”

            “Yes.”

            He leaned in close, and her back straightened at feeling his breath so close to her own lips, all of a sudden.

            Aleksander let her hand go, but his other was on her chin before they could both feel that absence. He tilted her chin back, watched her face intently, his eyes on hers.

            “Alina,” he said. “Look at me.”

            She did, really did. Saw every bit of the man she loved, and every bit of the man she hated.

            _Tug_.

            “There,” she said shakily.

            Aleksander leaned in closer, lips almost touching.

            She felt him shift his body, his forehead touching hers. She breathed steadily, or tried to, for her heart was beating in her throat.

            “Love damns us all in the end,” he said to her, thumb caressing her bottom lip.

            “Is it love that you feel?” She asked him.

            “Even monsters can love, Alina.”

            There was only a gasp torn from her when he finally kissed her.

            Real. This was real.

            He was real.

            Slow, and soft, and tender, and gentle, and all things good. Carefully, as if she might break or disappear out of sight, he touched her cheek, pulled his lips away and watched her eyes.

            He breathed her name, but she kissed it out of his lips.

            Her heart tightened, as if he’d wrapped a rope around it and was now pulling and pushing, urging an answer from her.

            And her answer came as she opened his mouth with hers and tasted him.

            _It this isn’t death, it might as well become death._

            It would kill them both to feel this way about each other. It certainly almost had. But such a thing was out of Alina’s mind as Aleksander wove his fingers into her hair and kissed her like he was out of air and she was his oxygen.

            He pulled her to him, his knees rising so their chests connect.

            He was so close. So close to her, for the first time.

            The man she knew as Aleksander, and not the one the world knew as the Darkling.

            This was the one she loved.

            But for her to love Aleksander, Alina realized, she had to love the Darkling.

            For her to love him, she had to love the darkness that killed many, tortured more, and tormented a thousand.

            And for all the wrongness of it, Alina clung to him like she clung for life.

            “Erase me,” he said against her lips. “Erase me, then.”

            She shook her head, dizzy when his lips trailed over her cheek, her jaw.

            “Go on.”

            “No,” she whispered.

            “Alina.”

            “No.”

            “Alina,” he said again, pulling away from her.

            Startled by the change in him, Alina stared at his face. Found him looking down – at their entwined hands, his eyes wide.

            Alina did the same.

            And her mouth parted at seeing that same glow – toned down, weak, almost lazy – but it was there. Not vicious, not hungry for her to strike, not angry. Soft and tender.

            The light. It had come back.

            She stared up at him. Said, “This.”

            Aleksander blinked, watching her. “What?”

            “This,” she said again, touching the other hand to his face, moving it to his lips. “This was what it took for it to come back.”

            Balance.

            Light and dark together.

            Aleksander swallowed with difficulty, squeezing her hand. “One and the same.”

            Alina murmured, “One and the same.”

            A pause. Neither of them moved.

            And then Aleksander’s eyes grew sadder and sadder, the light in them vanishing. Alina opened her mouth to ask-

            But then he leaned in, kissed her softly, tenderly. Like it was the last time.

            “Take us back,” he murmured against her lips.

            “I don’t know how,” she said.

            “You do,” he nodded. “Yes, you do.”

            Alina dug deep inside herself, finding that tether. “You have to help me.”

            He smiled sadly. A heartbreakingly beautiful picture. “I will.”

            “Promise me,” Alina said.

            And they both knew what she meant. Not helping her go back, but-

            He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, she was staring at him, just as sad. “I promise, Alina.”

            She raised their hands, entwined their fingers. Touched her forehead to his. Closed her eyes.

            He did the same.

            Light and dark both, in perfect balance.

***

            There was a lot of noise.

            Alina’s eyes were dry, her mouth drier. Someone was screaming her name, and then someone else, and then another person.

            It was too bright, and every part of her hurt.

            Someone touched a hand to her forehead, but that touch seemed foreign, threatening.

            She moved away, trying to make sense of her surroundings, feeling dizzy and nauseated and-

            “Mal,” she croaked.

            He wrapped his arms around her, squeezed so tight she could barely breathe. Another face. Blue eyes, dark hair. Red hair, scarred face. Then faces she did not recognize. All around her. Making so much noise.

            “Are you alright?” Mal touched her cheeks. “Tell me you’re alright.”

            For a moment, Alina stopped.

            Had it been a dream?

            “How much time?” She asked.

            “Three weeks and two days total,” Zoya – it was Zoya’s voice.

            “Where did you…?” Mal began. But he was interrupted by those faces she did not recognize.

            They were touching her. Healers.

            Alina pushed them away. “Stop touching me.”         

            “Alina-“ Mal started.

            “I’m fine,” she said, sitting up. Touching her head.

            “Let her breathe,” Genya said. “Give her a moment, Mal. You all need to leave. We’ll call for you if needed.”

            “But now that she’s back,” someone began saying, something she did not recognize and didn’t bother to, “the Darkling is too-“

            Alina started.

            _Aleksander_.

            “Where is he?” She asked, her voice shaking. “Where is he?”

            Mal pushed away, watching her with wide eyes. “You killed him.”

            “No,” Alina whispered. She tried moving out of the bed, but his arms stopped her.

            “GET OFF OF ME.”

            Mal stepped away, concern marrying his features. All of them stared. Alina pushed past the bodies around her to see him in his bed, his hand held out toward her, his eyes fluttering open.

            Blood started gushing out once more.

            “No,” she whispered.

            “Alina-“

            “He needs a healer,” Alina said, her legs shaking from standing, unsteady. “Bring a healer here, now!”

            They all stared at her, confused.

            “HEALERS!” She screamed, moving to his side.      

            They came through the door, watching the scene unfold. Aleksander coughed blood, spilling it over his chin.

            “Alina,” he said.

            _Tug_.

            “Heal him,” she said to the healers. “The blade did not pierce his heart. Maybe only a lung. His left. Heal him.”

            It was Zoya who placed a hand on her shoulder, pressing tightly. “Are you out of your mind?”

            Gasps tore from every mouth at that.

            Alina turned. “If he dies, so do I.”

            Mal said, “What are you talking about.”

            “His powers and mine are bound,” Alina explained, impatient. “That’s why I was out. That’s why his body hasn’t rotted. I’ve been… _somewhere_ , with him all along.”

            Zoya clenched her teeth. “Pull her under again if you have to.”

            Alina touched Zoya’s arm, digging her nails in. “You listen to me. I know it sounds insane. But if he dies, I am going with him. For real.”

            No answer. She stared at Mal. “You’ll let them kill me?”

            Mal stared at her. Said, without tearing his eyes away, “Heal him.”

            Genya began shaking her head, but Alina said, “I will deal with him. I promise you. There is no danger.”

            That presence deep within her – it shook, rumbled. The light awakening. And yet, it was not the same light that greeted her when she first discovered it. Soft, tender.

            Like his darkness.

            “How did you come back,” Zoya demanded, narrowing her eyes.

            “Him and I understood that we had to bind our powers to do so,” she explained. “There’s not a world that manages to survive without light and dark, and so we were suspended. I could not find my light over there. When I found it-“

            “I don’t care,” Mal said all of a sudden, standing by her side. “Heal him. I trust her. I trust Alina.”

            Alina looked at him, grateful.

            The ones present looked at each other. Zoya protested, but it was Genya who said, “He will be a prisoner.”

            “Fine,” Alina said. “Now heal him.”

            Alina had an inkling that not one person in that room doubted that she was only scared for her _own_ life.

            All – except Mal.

           

***

            He woke up hours later.

            He had guns pointed at him.

            Alina was standing at the end of his bed, Mal at her side.

            Aleksander stared only at her.

            “You are being kept prisoner,” Alina mumbled, arms crossed, shielding herself.

            Aleksander had no answer.

            “I am to kill you if you call the shadows,” Alina continued, pushing back tears.

            Still, he did not speak. Just watched her with that same intensity, his eyes telling her everything she needed to know.

            _I know you are not betraying me._

_This is my doing._

_I will accept it._

He groaned when they moved him out of the bed.

            His torn, bloodied shirt clung to him, his hair falling over his forehead as they twisted his arms behind him and bound him in chains.

            Alina’s breath cut from her lungs. She remembered the feel of him all so clearly.

            _A monster._

And yet she saw the difference in his eyes.

            _Doesn’t erase what he did._

_Erase me. Erase me then._

_No._

She felt Mal watching her. Alina did not meet his eyes.

            “Nikolai will not kill you,” Alina said, trying to keep her voice steady. “He knows that in doing so, he will be killing me.”

            Aleksander lowered his eyes. Things he already knew. But things that she had to say, for all of those present.

            “I defend Ravka,” Alina said. “I defend this kingdom. I defend the king.”

            No answer.

            Though he did look up one more time.

            _I will not pity you._

_I do not wish you to._

            They took him away, and Alina knew that she was supposed to follow. That it was now her duty to make sure that the Darkling did not come out of hiding.

            But weak as he was – there was no way he could summon.

            He could barely walk, so they dragged him.

            Alina could not stop herself, so she asked to his back, before they took him out the door of the infirmary: “What colour?”

            Aleksander looked over his shoulder.

            They all stared. Alina didn’t care.        

            She asked, voice quiet, “What colour did you see?”

            _“What did you see?” She asked._

_Aleksander shook his head, closed his eyes again. Murmured, under his breath, “A colour. Only a colour.”_

            In her mind. When he’d seen her mind.

            Recognition shined in his eyes.

            _Tug._

Before they took him away from her, the darkness to her light, Aleksander murmured, “Grey.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED.


End file.
